Send her back
by aliciastequila
Summary: She's gone, and whatever it is that hurts, it hurts like fuck. Harvey/Scotty, post 3x01, because, once again, I have feelings, and many of them.


_**Send her back**_

_**A/N: **__Yes, I wrote Harvey/Scotty. Yes, I'm sorry. Yes, I still ship Harvey/Donna, but, I mean, fuck, I have feelings about these two, more than I know how to say (or write) so please bear with this, and maybe enjoy yourself. (Also, I don't have a beta, I'm not a native speaker and I was mildly tipsy going on drunk right while writing this, so please, and I mean please, excuse the mistakes, I know they're around, I just can't find them. Oh, and on second note, my love for London is all over this thing, which means that, once again, I'm so incredibly _sorry_.)_

London is a beautiful city.

For the ones who were born there, there's nowhere else in the world, the sky isn't as blue and the fries aren't as oily, and the air, well, the air is different.

For the ones who've moved there, the ones who got to see it for a first time, London is majestic, it's magical, it's magnificent. There are still other places and the world is still beautiful, but since you've seen London, _why_ would you bother, or care at all?

Scotty -No, _Dana Scott_- she feels that way about it.

When she first sees it, when she first sees London, she doesn't bother anymore.

Sure, the Brits may not be her crowd, they do happy and angry quite in the same way (or at least her boss does, which is an inconvenient coincidence if you ask her) and it does get grey very often, but the sky is still bluer, the air is still different and the fries are just - _god, are you seriously asking about the fries?_ They're five hundred shades of _perfect_, that's what they are.

Dana Scott adores London, and never thought to move away from it ever since she first visited.

_Scotty _-the girl Harvey had, the one he fucked and cuddled and kissed and somehow even loved- that girl despises London, she despises it with a burning passion.

It's the people, she tells herself, it's the fucking Brits who act like they own the world and treat her like she's the last Chinese gadget at a souvenir shop, like she's fake and she doesn't matter, like everything else is better and they can't tell her to go home because they're too busy pretending to be polite, but really, if you look deep enough, that's not even the problem.

The problem is that -fuck, and she means it, _fuck_- she misses Harvey.

It's not that she can't do without him, it's not like she cries about him in her bed at night (so what, maybe it happened _once_, it doesn't mean anything and _shut the fuck up_) it's just that, fuck, she misses him.

It's how sometimes she'll look at a place, at a building, or at a person and at how _British_ they are and want to make some kind of remark, and she knows Harvey -him, he's really just him to her- would say the exact same thing at the same time.

It's how they wouldn't even laugh about it because it happened too many freaking times, how she already knows, how he already can tell, how everything has been established already between them and yet everything is a constant surprise.

It's -to be honest- how he'll fuck her against some wall, how he'll love her if she lets him and how he'll hold her if they, for some reason, end up sharing a bed.

It's how they don't have to talk about it, how they already know, how he already knows or pretends he does for her sake, her pleasure, for her to be comfortable enough not to flee before sunrise.

It's how he loves her, and she loves him. How they've always loved each other and how they always will.

It's how sad and honestly heartbroken, yet relieved he was, when she told him she was getting married.

It's how she didn't get married because she couldn't let go of that same look, how the memory of him holding her close, sadly smiling against her shoulder kept her from ever loving someone else that same way,

It's nothing she can explain or cares to, it's nothing she can understand or he can admit, it's nothing they'll ever learn to fit in their lives, but it's also the only thing they've ever had that didn't mean shit.

Somehow, they still won't do anything about it. Somehow, they'll still waste a love and two lives for the sake of pride and ambition, somehow she's still living in London, which, if you ask Dana Scott, it's the most majestic and amazing place humans have ever set foot on.

But, if you ask Scotty, she hates it. Scotty wants to go home, she wants to stop fighting this, and she wants Harvey to hold her in his arms every night, she wants to stop being afraid and love like she isn't a freaking _lawyer _all the time.

She wants another life, where she's another person and he's someone else as well. He wants the same, but since they're the same, he'll never say.

"London, send her back to London" he blurts out, and he doesn't know if what hurts more is that he's lost her again, that he's just _that much_ of a loser or simply that Donna looks at him like the idiot he is, but really, it doesn't matter.

She's gone, and whatever it is that hurts, it hurts like fuck.


End file.
